Synonyms
by redtoes
Summary: The whole synonyms/antonyms series. What would happen if Jan and Missy suddenly found they had chemistry? COMPLETE with EPILOGUE
1. Obvious

Obvious  
  
This is my first Bring it On fic, so please be gentle. It just jumped out at me when I saw the movie repeated on Sky for like the 15th time. It's Missy/Jan with and touch of Jan/Courtney and Cliff/Torrance. Please review so I want to write more as I think this could be a series!  
  
  
  
Torrance and Cliff were obvious from the beginning. From the moment they met there was a connection, a vibe, a something. A something that was obvious from the moment he held the door open, to the first football game he made it to in his life, from the guitar wolf whistle, to the hours he spent making her a tape. It was obvious, expected, and I felt little surprise when he finally turned up in Florida and cheered us (though it was blatantly more for her) on.  
  
I asked both of them, different times of course, but I asked. And man, how far into denial were they? I mean it's a river in Egypt, not a waterfall or an inland sea or whatever.  
  
But anyway, as I was saying, it was Cliff and Torrance were obvious. Predictable.  
  
Jan and I, well, that kinda blindsided me. And Jan. And Courtney. Basically everyone.  
  
I'm not sure when it started. There was a vibe, and then there wasn't. He's complimenting me, then he's telling me how his fingers just slip sometimes. When he held me in the air his fingers never slipped. At times he nearly dropped me, but his fingers never slipped anywhere. I never bent over to give him a view of my ass, I never gave him a show, never shoved him up against a wall and -  
  
Nevermind.  
  
No, I don't want to talk about it.  
  
No, I don't. I won't.  
  
Well it was that damn car wash. Yeah, the "guys ogling my goodies" car wash. The making money to pay Sparky car wash. Damn Sparky. But that's a different rant. This one's the car wash.  
  
The bikini-clad-water-fighting-car wash.  
  
The Courtney and Jan against a Chevy car wash.  
  
When he hits her with water and she shrieks and chases him with a sponge. When he laughs as the water soaks her suit, and she threatens him with a certain look in her eyes. And he backs her into a car with the hose and move in on her and they seem to be about a second away from making a porn star blush when Les dumps a bucket of suds over Jan and he's suddenly more interested in assuaging his male pride with his best friend than screwing his almost girlfriend against a Chevy.  
  
I could add more details but what would be the point. It's the past.  
  
From my point of view history started after the California State Championships. After the Torrance Vs. Courtney & Whitney showdown. When the gauntlet was thrown. When it was me and Les against everyone else.  
  
"Why'd you do that?"  
  
And I'm turning. Very quickly. And holding the towel around my chest. Very tightly.  
  
"What?" I'm eloquent when I'm in shock.  
  
He leans back against a locker.  
  
"So this is what the Girl's Locker Room looks like." He's grinning at me. "It smells better than ours."  
  
"I wouldn't know." Just call me ice; I'm totally chilled. I'm not at all freaked out about the fact that I'm wearing nothing but a towel and talking to Jan. "I've never seen 'em."  
  
"These're better," he shrugs, "trust me."  
  
"I do."  
  
He grins.  
  
"You do what?"  
  
"I trust you." I turn away to start drying off. "I kinda have to. You throw me in the air on a regular basis." I'm not looking, I'm not looking. I'm just drying off. I am in no way curious to see if he's checking me out.  
  
"I don't," he says.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I don't throw you anywhere. Steve lifts you. Torrance paired me with Courtney."  
  
"Right." I pull on my jeans under the towel. Least I'm not naked anymore  
  
"Right." There's something in his tone, something I'm not sure I want to hear. I've almost got my bra on and I don't want to think about what he might be saying.  
  
"So."  
  
"So," I reply. I'm done with the towel now and pulling a top over my head and.  
  
And -  
  
And it's stuck on something.  
  
Dammit.  
  
Why does this always happen to me! Why! I was so close to Ice Princess I had chill blains and now - NOW - I've got my top stuck over my head, my arms trapped and my chest visible to the world. The world, that right now, includes Jan.  
  
Jan.  
  
"Jan?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Shit. He's still here. He's still watching. He's -  
  
Wait. Why's he not laughing?  
  
Cliff laughs at everything. Cliff's probably off laughing right now coz his sister's on a Cheerleading Squad. Probably having a ball with just the thought of it. Of me. He'd be in hysterics if he could see me now. So would Les. Probably. He'd laugh it up.  
  
But Jan's not laughing. He's just watching me. Suddenly I can feel my skin burning.  
  
"You're not laughing."  
  
"No."  
  
I struggle a bit more to get lose.  
  
"You're blushing" he says, finally.  
  
"Am I?" It's a weak shot, but I'm just hoping -  
  
"Yeah".  
  
Even with my eyes covered I can feel him move closer.  
  
"Jan, I -"  
  
"Shh." His finger brushes my lips. "Don't."  
  
"Jan?"  
  
"Do you trust me?" I can feel his breath against the back of my neck.  
  
"Yeah." My voice shakes a little  
  
"Then trust me."  
  
His hands are in my hair, gently untangling locks still wet from the shower. He takes his time, moving slowly, but I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin as it speeds up. He runs his hands through my hair, and suddenly this has nothing to do with cheerleading or winning or even getting out of this bind I'm in. This is purely about touch.  
  
And he touches me. Running his fingertips down my arms so gently it's as if he never quite hits skin, just brushes along past my elbows with this feather-light touch that causes my breath to catch in my throat.  
  
His hands reach my shoulders, and I let him turn me to face him, as one hand rises to drift along the edge of my jaw. The other slips down past my breasts to caress the skin of my stomach, then slips around my waist as he steps in close.  
  
His breath warms my lips now as I shiver in his embrace. We're so close - so close - as his hand reaches round behind my head, pulling my mouth towards his and -  
  
His hand frees my shirt from the clasp of my necklace and I'm free.  
  
I hesitate, and in the second it takes me to pull my shirt down and make a decision to kiss the boy now, he's back leaning against the lockers as if nothing had happened.  
  
"So," he says, and something inside me grins as I register that he's trying to disguise the fact he's breathing hard.  
  
"So," I reply, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible.  
  
"What was all that about? In the Gym."  
  
"Huh?" I'm pretty sure we're in the Locker Room. The Gym, what Gym?  
  
"The showdown with Courtney and Whitney. You and Les."  
  
Oh that Gym.  
  
"That was, well. You were there, right?"  
  
"Yeah. You and Les, your show of support."  
  
I shrug.  
  
"I was right wasn't I. We're gonna stick by Torr, go over to Florida and win."  
  
"I know, it's just, I don't know. I thought you trusted me."  
  
"I do." I falter, "I mean, we just -"  
  
He dismisses my words with a gesture.  
  
"If you trusted me you'd have told me."  
  
"I do trust you." Okay that sounded plaintive even to me.  
  
"You don't. You just dismissed me. Like only you and Les can have a conscience about this shit."  
  
I don't know what to say because if I'm being totally honest, he's kinda right.  
  
"We just thought that given you and" - must say her name without hatred - "Courtney, you'd already chosen, like, a side in this."  
  
"Courtney." He says it without emotion - like it's just another word.  
  
"I'm sorry Jan," I'm floundering, sinking in the deep water, "We didn't think you - "  
  
"Courtney," he says again.  
  
"And her spanky pants" I try, going for the cheap laugh at the blonde bitch's expense.  
  
"Courtney."  
  
I'm on a level so far beyond uncomfortable right now that it's not true. Fifteen minutes ago he was watching me dress, five minutes back he was writing his name with his fingers across my skin and this close - this close - to kissing me. And now? Now we're talking about his damn almost girlfriend.  
  
I look away. I just can't stand it anymore.  
  
"Missy." I can't help but notice that he whispers my name with a hell of a lot more emotion that hers.  
  
"I don't think you're allowed in here" I say, staring at the floor.  
  
"Missy." He's stepping closer again, his hands reaching out for me.  
  
I step back.  
  
"Just go." It's barely above a whisper, and I'm not looking but I can hear his retreat. I glance up in time to see him standing at the door, myriad emotions playing across his features.  
  
And then he's gone. And the door swings closed behind him.  
  
After a moment I start to pack up my things, wrap up my towel and dirty practice clothes, throw toiletries into my bag. I already know I'm not going to tell anyone about this, not Torrance, not Les and certainly not Cliff.  
  
If I don't tell anyone, it didn't happen.  
  
I walk out of the Locker Room, carrying my bag, holding my head high. Nothing happened today. I didn't just let a guy I like touch my skin but leave before he kisses me. I didn't just bring up his semi-girlfriend after the event. I didn't savour every tiny touch of his hands and the warmth of his breath of my skin.  
  
Nothing happened just now. Nothing at all.  
  
Now if only my skin would stop tingling. 


	2. Predictable

Predictable  
  
Maybe it was predictable. Me guy, her girl. Despite the constant ribbing from the football losers I know that the general perception in school is that we get some. That we get a lot. That the girls are our playthings, or would that be another way around.?  
  
Every now and then I hear rumours, stories, about our conquests. About the threesome Aaron had with Courtney and Whitney, about Big Red's bitches and Darcy's boy toys. I overhear snippets of conversation between classes, comments made in the locker room and occasional insult aimed at my sexuality.  
  
They've paired me with Whitney, Darcy and Carver on occasion. Big Red broke me in for the team and Torrance used me to get captain. Courtney regularly abuses me for sexual favors and I stole Casey's virginity (which is, as far as I know still in existence) from her. But they're never linked me with Missy.  
  
No one's ever linked me with Missy.  
  
They're linked Missy with Torrance and even with Les (which is just crazy coz that boy is about as straight as a circle), but never with me.  
  
So I'm thinking about this. And I'm thinking about the way her skin felt under my fingertips and the way she shook so gently at my touch. And thinking about the look in her eyes and line of her lips.  
  
I'm thinking about all of this. At the worst possible time.  
  
"What you thinking?"  
  
Courtney snuggles up against me with the popcorn. She's got her hair tied up, a few tendrils curling against the nape of her neck. My arms aren't around her, they're stretched along the back of the coach and for the first time ever I'm wondering if I shouldn't be somewhere else entirely.  
  
"Jan?" She leans in, loose strands of her hair tickle my skin as she moves. "You in there?" She grins as she closes in, a flirtatious look in her eyes.  
  
But it's always been like this. We flirt and joke and make out and that's it. That's all it's ever been. We tease and taunt and touch. We kiss and caress and what. I can't remember if we ever talked.  
  
She's kissing my neck, teasing the skin with her lips. And I'm just sitting here. I want her. I always want her. And physically she's pretty much perfect. Physically I can feel myself responding to her touch. But mentally, mentally I'm not even here.  
  
I'm in a locker room, the girl's locker room. And this brunette with an attitude is completely unable to help herself out of this bind she's in. Helpless for the first time since I met her. And ever so gently I'm touching her skin.  
  
Courtney's licking my neck and unbuttoning her shirt. She doesn't even notice I'm not here. The t-shirt I was wearing has already been thrown across the floor sometime when I wasn't paying attention, and she's taking full advantage of that.  
  
I wonder when she's gonna notice I'm not here.  
  
I wonder if she'll notice I'm not here.  
  
So I'm just sitting here, while Courtney plays seductress and writhes above me.  
  
And I'm responding.  
  
Somehow, without any involvement of my brain, the two of us have progressed past most of the stages of foreplay. And I'm looking up at this girl. This blonde, beautiful naked girl who wants me.  
  
Who wants me right now.  
  
I stare up at her as she grins down at me. She's got that look in her eyes. That passionate teasing look. That look that says exactly what she's about to do.  
  
I bite my lip as she slides off my lap.  
  
"Courtney?" I ask.  
  
"Yes Jan," she replies, sitting from the floor.  
  
I don't want her to do this.  
  
I want her and I don't. I don't.  
  
"Don't" I manage.  
  
She cocks her head.  
  
"Don't what?"  
  
"Can't we just, I don't know, talk?"  
  
She raises her eyebrows.  
  
"Talk."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
There's a pause.  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No," I say, "I'm not."  
  
She's standing now, leaning in over me.  
  
"You know," she says, "it's so sweet that you think of me. But I don't mind, you can make it up to me later."  
  
I blink. When did we get here? When did whatever relationship we have become a series of "making it up to each other" sessions.  
  
"You know what," she says, "I have an idea, but we can't stay here."  
  
"Yeah?" It's not nearly as enthusiastic as my usual response to her ideas. Her ideas that generally involve nights in her bed, and handcuffs and melted ice cream places it really shouldn't be.  
  
"I'll be waiting for you." She says as she strips off what's left of her clothing. "Come upstairs in just a minute, and I'll be waiting."  
  
And I'm left here, on the coach, with my body reacting to the memories of her last idea, while my mind tells me I shouldn't sleep with whatever she is to me while all I can think about is this afternoon, in the girls locker room, with Missy.  
  
Missy.  
  
Missy.  
  
Before I know what I'm doing I've fumbled my cell out of the pocket of my jacket and tapped in her number.  
  
And it's ringing.  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"Missy?"  
  
There's a silence.  
  
"Jan." "Missy, I -" What is it I'm supposed to say right now? I'm half naked at Courtney's and I'm about to go up to her room but I just wanted to talk to you. I've got this girl offering to fulfill my fantasies upstairs and all I can think about is how you reacted when I touched you this afternoon.  
  
"Missy, I -" I want you. I want to be going upstairs to your room. "Can I come over?"  
  
Woah.  
  
Where did that come from?  
  
"Missy I - " Did I actually just say that out loud. "Are you still there?"  
  
"I'm here." Her voice is flat, emotionless even.  
  
"Missy, I -"  
  
"It's late Jan."  
  
"Yeah it is."  
  
"I'll be in tomorrow." She'll be in tomorrow.  
  
"I'll come round."  
  
And she's gone. Hung up on me.  
  
I sink into the sofa with a smile on my face. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. I rest my head back against the cushions. Tomorrow.  
  
I must have dozed off because suddenly I'm kissing someone. Or being kissed. Or both. I moan slightly as I push my hands into her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. We duel with our mouths and I let my hands drift down to naked - naked! - shoulders.  
  
The shock makes my eyes fly open.  
  
And I'm taken aback at the sight of blond, not dark, hair.  
  
"Courtney?"  
  
"Hey Lover, who're you expecting?"  
  
Missy.  
  
"You."  
  
"Come on Lover" she says, pulling me to my feet. "Let's go upstairs."  
  
"Courtney," I start, "we should talk."  
  
"We can talk after," she says as she drags me across the room. "Now come on."  
  
We can talk after. Except we can't because she'd kill me. And Missy. And we can't afford this right now. We need to be in sync, we need to be in tune. I can't screw around here. Not this close to the Nationals.  
  
"After."  
  
"Yeah," she says, "after."  
  
I'm trying not to think about what I'm doing.  
  
I'm not betraying Missy because, well because there's nothing there. Yet.  
  
I'm doing this for the team. And myself.  
  
I'm not doing this to Missy.  
  
Courtney grabs my belt and pulls me into her room, with that look in her eyes.  
  
I can't believe I'm turning into that guy, that guy who thinks of one girl while sleeping with another. I'm turning into that guy. I don't want to be that guy. I don't want to be here.  
  
I shut the door behind me.  
  
Maybe if I keep my eyes closed. 


	3. Expected

Expected  
  
By Redtoes  
"Okay," I admit, "I'm confused."  
  
"Really Les," Missy mutters, "Then imagine how I feel right now." Abruptly she drops onto the stool in front of her vanity table and yanks a brush through her hair.  
  
I roll over on the bed, and stare up at the ceiling.  
  
"So," I say trying to get this situation straight, "you like him."  
  
"No!" She slams the brush down on the desk. "I don't!"  
  
"Except -" I prompt.  
  
"Except, I kinda do." She admits, staring intently at the floor.  
  
"Jan and Missy, sittin' in a tree" I tease.  
  
"Finish that sentence and I'll tell Cliff you've got a crush," Missy threatens.  
  
"But, I don't."  
  
She grins.  
  
"He doesn't know that."  
  
I consider what I know of her brother. Guitar obsessed. Hung up on Torrance. Good line in vintage shirts. Attractive forearms.  
  
"He wouldn't care."  
  
Missy flops down on the bed beside me.  
  
"I know," she grumbles.  
  
I chuckle to myself as I watch her fidget with the ends of her hair.  
  
"You know" she says, "You'd be a hell of a lot easier to threaten if you were just slightly further into the closet."  
  
"Yeah, it's a real shame I'm open about my sexuality, coz otherwise people would have reason to hate me." I'm generally a laid back guy, but on some subjects, well, lets just say I have some issues.  
  
"It's getting to you?"  
  
I sigh.  
  
"Not so much. I mean I am who I am, I'm just looking forward to college."  
  
"Huh," she comments, "Football jerks again?"  
  
I raise an eyebrow.  
  
"They bother Jan more than me." I watch her intently, looking for a reaction.  
  
"Jan?" Her face is so neutral right now...  
  
"Yeah," I add, "Jan". Let's shift it up into gear. "I think it bothers him to hear the comments. He gets protective sometimes. Other times," I shrug, "he's just pissed."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Missy wraps a lock of hair around her forefingers, twisting it tight around her skin.  
  
I take a breath. "Did he kiss you?"  
  
"No," she breathes softly, "but we were close." She closes her eyes, remembering, and I watch as emotions play across her face. For a second she looks almost blissful, then, she returns with a sigh to playing with her hair  
  
I have to ask.  
  
"Where'd this come from Missy?"  
  
She looks up at me, honest emotion evident on her features.  
  
"I don't know," she whispers, "I never thought of Jan as anything more." She trails off, lost in her confusion. "But yesterday, it was such a rush when he touched me. Everything felt real, you know? It just was right, felt right. And now..."  
  
"And now you don't know where you stand." I complete.  
  
"No," she sighs, "I don't."  
  
"You know the first stage is admitting you have a problem," I pun, hoping to break her out of the emotional funk she's sunk into.  
  
"Yeah Les and which one of the twelve steps allows me to get a crush on another girl's boyfriend." Missy gets aggressive with others when she's pissed at herself. It took me a while to get this, to reconcile the badass that flipped across the gym at tryouts with the nervous, almost shy, girl who still gets embarrassed at games. I'm not sure that the others have really noticed, but the moments when Missy glowers or yells the most are when she feels most vulnerable.  
  
"Chill it Miss," I croon. "I'm not attacking you."  
  
"I know," she sighs. "It's just that I've got visions about how this is gonna end up and none of them're are good."  
  
"You're overstressing Missy," I soothe as she paces about the room. She's manic, wrapped up in herself over this. I tilt my head as something she said earlier registers.  
  
"What did you mean when you said he has a girlfriend?"  
  
"I meant," she snaps back, "that Jan has a girlfriend. Courtney."  
  
"Courtney and Jan aren't anything," I say, "They're just Courtney and Jan.."  
  
"Not helping."  
  
"Sorry," I'm floundering here, a little lost in the difficulties of what it is I'm trying to define. "Courtney and Jan aren't serious; they just tease each other. A lot."  
  
"Teasing's physical these days?" She snipes.  
  
"Kinda." I sigh, "Look that's just how they are, how they've always been. Since first grade Courtney and Jan have been messing about. It's not serious." Except he's told me they've slept together and she's got a great imagination. Suddenly I'm not sure how serious they are or aren't. Jan's always talked about Courtney with a kind of awe in his voice, a why should she want me thing. But he's never displayed any emotion except this masculine posturing thing, this sexual pride. He's never really seemed to care about her. Never noticed when she's not around or spent time with her, other than when they're, you know, fucking like bunnies.  
  
And it's not like she's much better. Torrance told me that Courtney refers to Jan as her boy-toy, her fuck-buddy, never her boyfriend. I know it bothered us, our fair captain and I, a while back, that they seemed completely without emotion. But then Torrance hooked up with Aaron and I was left by myself for the romantic suspicion thing.  
  
But it's true - whatever it is they have with each other it's not a boyfriend/girlfriend thing. It's barely a relationship. Just touches and slipping fingers, foreplay and experimentation.  
  
It's not right.  
  
It just is.  
  
But then explaining this to Missy isn't going to be easy.  
  
*****  
  
I wonder if I should have just stayed home last night. Just skipped out on Courtney. Just said something like "Sorry babe gotta catch up on some sleep/calculus/male bonding time with my buddy Les." What would've happened if I just hadn't gone round. If I'd just stayed home. If I'd just called Missy like two hours earlier so she wouldn't have had the "It's late" excuse.  
  
I wouldn't have this guilt for a start.  
  
I wouldn't have this whole two-timing-sex-fling-cheerleader issue that I'm currently wrapped up in.  
  
This isn't gonna be easy. In fact this could well be the opposite of easy, like damn hard or totally impossible. I'm not picky, but anything other than the easy road is just a general no-no for me, which I have to admit kinda explains my complete idiocy last night.  
  
I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to do it, but talking to Courtney and explaining that was just gonna be too damn difficult so I didn't. Except I did. Her. Twice.  
  
But it's not like I didn't have second thoughts.  
  
There were second thoughts. And third thoughts. Lots of thoughts. But no action, or more accurately, no reaction. I just went along with what it was my body wanted and let Courtney have her way with me. Woo hoo! Wasn't that fun. I'm just all a tremble thinking about the nigh of sex that was, mentally at least, entirely non-consensual on my behalf. (And please, those watching at home, note the sarcasm here.)  
  
Though I'm thinking Missy's not going to see it that way.  
  
I slept with Courtney hours after there was.something.with Missy.  
  
Something.  
  
But what.  
  
I have to admit I'm more of doer than a thinker. Les always had to help me with the academic shit, but my SATs weren't bad. It's just that when it comes down to it I prefer shit I can solve, not stuff that requires, you know, deliberation and introspection - as Darcy would say during one of her SAT overdrives.  
  
So what am I doing here? Standing outside Missy's front door, confused as hell but hopeful.  
  
I'm more of a doer than a thinker. And pressing doorbells, well that's something you do. Not something you think about.  
  
So how come I'm thinking about it. My hand just hovers there over the button, caught up in this thing that's going on between her and me. This something.  
  
"Are you coming in man, or what?" Cliff stands in the open doorway, this shit-eating grin stretched across his face. He must have opened the door while I was still trying to get to grips with the damn bell.  
  
"Jan?" he prompts.  
  
"Yeah," I manage, "sure Dude." I'm cool and collected. I'm chilled. I'm -  
  
I'm sweating.  
  
My palms are actually clammy right now.  
  
Cliff takes all this in with a raised eyebrow. I'm actually dreading his next comment. We've never really bonded and I'm not sure how he feels about the squad given the post-regionals Torrance thing we all heard about from Missy. I wonder if he knows Torr and Aaron broke up?  
  
"She's upstairs Jan." He says with a nod, pulling his ever-present earphones on.  
  
"Thanks." I wipe my hands on my jeans and head for the stairs.  
  
"Cliff." I call, paused on the first step.  
  
He turns, dropping the phones to his neck.  
  
"Torr, she -"  
  
"Don't get involved in this Jan," he interrupts, softly. "Not your place."  
  
"It'll work out." I say, as much to reassure myself as to influence him.  
  
"Maybe" he shrugs. "We'll see." And with that he drops out of sight onto the sofa, and I turn back to the stairs.  
  
Here we go.  
  
Taking them two at a time I jog up to the second story. I'm going to go see Missy, and I'm gonna tell her something. Coz that's what this is. Something. 


	4. Conventional

Conventional  
  
By Redtoes  
I'd buried my face beneath a pillow in an attempt to block out Les's amused laughter so I didn't hear the soft knock at the door. I didn't hear the rap of Jan's knuckles on the doorframe. I didn't see him leaning against the wall watching as I hid under a pillow, trying desperately not to think about, well, him, and the thoughts that Les had put in my head.  
  
So it came as a bit of a shock when Les stopped laughing and said -  
  
"Jan. Dude."  
  
I feel the mattress shift a little as Les gets up.  
  
"Les."  
  
I can hear the slap of skin as they exchange greetings. The two of them are close. Really close. It always amazed me how close they are. I mean most guys, most men, they have issues about sexuality. Jan gets stress and shit just coz he cheers. Les, he hides it well, but there's stuff he just won't talk about. Like his home-life. Like his sexuality beyond the basic distinction of straight/gay. Les has issues, but he and Jan are tight.  
  
"So." Jan starts.  
  
"Yeah," Les answers, "She's communing with the comforter."  
  
And that's enough for me to sit up and throw the pillow at him. Les catches it easily, and grins at me.  
  
"Bit hostile Miss," he comments, eyebrow raised.  
  
"Yeah," I fumble, "well."  
  
Les is the only one grinning here. The only comfortable one in the room. The amused observer who just can't get enough of this stuff. My discomfort. Jan's unsurety.  
  
"Les," I venture, "Don't you have a place to be right now?"  
  
"Nope." I swear that's grin's getting wider.  
  
"Les," I warn, my voice dangerously low.  
  
"Missy?" he asks, all innocence.  
  
The grin doesn't falter as I try to glare him out of the room.  
  
Jan's mouth quirks a little.  
  
"Buddy." Jan says, his tone neutral.  
  
"Okay," Les says, "I'll catch you cats tomorrow."  
  
And with that he's gone.  
  
Leaving me and Jan alone. In my room. Alone.  
  
Did it suddenly get hot in here?  
  
Jan shifts on his feet, looking away from me. In fact looking everywhere but at me.  
  
"You've got to teach me how to do that," I say as he wanders around the room.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The getting rid of Les thing." I say. "It could be helpful."  
  
"Yeah," he says, his eyes drifting over the framed photos on the wall. Not looking at me. Barely speaking. Uninterested.  
  
So now I'm uncomfortable, wondering what he's doing here. My mouth feels dry, my skin sweaty. He's not interested. And man how much do I not want to hear him say it.  
  
So.  
  
Let's be normal.  
  
With that thought in mind I slip off the bed, and move around until I can see what's got him so distracted.  
  
"I look terrible in that one," I say, gesturing to the photo he holds in his hands. "All puffy and red. I should never let Cliff near a camera." And it's true, I do. And Cliff should never be allowed to carry machines he can record anything on, images, sounds, anything. I swear every picture he takes is a calculated attempt at blackmail.  
  
"What happened?" he asks.  
  
I look at the picture. I'm holding up the Kentucky State trophy so that would make me what, sixteen? About two years old or so. Year and a half at least. But it's not the trophy that's caught Jan's attention. It's the clear physical signs that I won that day while suffering from one of the worst colds I've ever had.  
  
"I'm a hardcore gymnast," I state, "I laugh in the face of influenza. I snigger at bronchitis."  
  
"And no way is jumping up and down screaming "go team" gonna satisfy ya?" he quotes back at me, a smile on his lips as he looks me straight in the eye.  
  
"Something like that," I manage to get out past the blush that's threatening to take over my skin.  
  
"Really," he says, leaning in a little closer.  
  
"No," I quietly admit. "I like it."  
  
"Me too," he says softly. "I like it a lot."  
  
There's some serious eye contact going on here. High level eye contact and a mega-watt smile. If I didn't know better I'd say he was flirting.  
  
I look away before I make it too obvious. He's not flirting. He can't be flirting.  
  
"Would you like a drink," I ask, my eyes fixed on the table, "Or something to eat?"  
  
"I'm good," he replies.  
  
"Yeah," I say, almost to myself as I start to step away.  
  
Except that his hand's on my arm, and I'm looking up at him and I'm caught, and confused. And I have absolutely no idea what's happening right now.  
  
"Missy," he breathes with something almost like pain in his voice.  
  
I staring into his eyes and I swear I could just die now except -  
  
Except -  
  
Except he just let go of my arm and stepped back.  
  
"Maybe I should go," he says quietly, his eyes focused on the wall.  
  
"No!" The outburst surprises even me. "Stay a while. I've got time. No practice today."  
  
"Okay," he says, "what would you like to talk about."  
  
*****  
  
She looked so much like herself when I got here. All rumpled and ruffled and buried beneath some cushion or other trying to ignore Les. She looked tough and vulnerable, happy and angry. Honest. Truthful.  
  
There's no way she could hide her true feelings, she's such an expressive person. Dancing and joking when she's up. Quiet and thoughtful when she's down. And to find her hiding under her pillow, well that's just her.  
  
Les just grinned at me when I turned up. Fact he didn't stop grinning till he left when he gave me this serious look through the door with the unspoken message of "Don't screw this up".  
  
And I'm not gonna.  
  
If I have to spend the next three hours talking about photographs and gymnastics I'm gonna do it, coz it'll take me that long to get up enough courage to say what it is I want to say.  
  
Missy I like you.  
  
She's standing so close I could just reach out and -  
  
No.  
  
Talk first.  
  
Action later.  
  
Maybe.  
  
"Take a seat."  
  
"Huh?" She's knocked me out of my own head and now I'm standing alone in the middle of the room whilst she sits cross-legged on the bed.  
  
"Come on," she says, "there's loads of room."  
  
I know I'm just staring at her. Sitting there. On her bed.  
  
"Come on Jan," she repeats. She's not quite tapping the quilt yet, but the implication is there. I take a quick glance around the room - there's only the stool at the vanity and that's fair too small and too far away to be useful. Yup, she means the bed.  
  
With enthusiasm I flop down on the mattress. She shifts her position to lie beside me, kicking her feet in the air negligently.  
  
"It's a big bed." I comment needlessly.  
  
"Yeah," she comments, "I think my parents really expect me to get some action this year."  
  
I bite back a very unmanly gasp.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She grins.  
  
"Possibly," she answers, "It's the first house I've ever had a double in. The rest have been twins."  
  
"Like you and Cliff?" I ask. I've always been curious how it is they're in the same academic year.  
  
"Nah," she replies, "He's older by, get this, ten months. Guess the parentals didn't want to wait." She mock shudders. "Freaks me out sometimes, to think I'm the result of them getting back to sex as quickly as possible after having him."  
  
I smile.  
  
"Good result." I comment.  
  
She blushes, the colour sweeping up from her neck, up across the features of her face, and down to the tint the skin of her shoulders. Embarrassed she stares down at the mattress.  
  
I want to touch her and find out if her body's warmer when she blushes.  
  
I can't stop my hand as it reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. Ever so gently I tuck it behind her ear, and let my fingers brush down the line of her chin as I start to withdraw.  
  
Swallowing deeply she opens her eyes as I touch her skin and looks up at me. I'm leaning in towards her, moving closer and closer as the seconds pass.  
  
As she pushes in towards me my hand slips back into her hair, cradling her neck. And that's all the reasons I need as I pull her closer, closing the last few centimeters, and lower my lips to hers.  
  
*****  
  
As kisses go this one's pretty much amazing.  
  
His lips against mine, his hand on my neck, our mouths together.  
  
Somewhere, caught up in the moment, I raise my arms around his neck and let pull me closer by a hand on my waist.  
  
And it's perfect.  
  
We lie together, side by side, and I have to say I'm not one for romantic clichés but if something ever felt right, this is it.  
  
He pulls back slightly, watching my face intensely.  
  
"I should tell you something," he says softly, "I like you. I really like you Missy."  
  
"I really like you too Jan," I reply, barely getting time to reply as he pulls me close again for another soul-searing kiss. "I really like you too." 


	5. Traditional

Traditional  
  
******  
There are ways that I imagined this going.  
  
There's the usual expectations about what's going to happen. There are hopes and thoughts and the odd fantasy that plays out during an especially dull math class. There are possibilities. Options.  
  
But in all my imaginings, my musings, I never quite got this right.  
  
I never quite thought that Jan's hands in my hair would feel so good. Or that his lips were so soft. Or that the look in his eyes could tighten things low in my body.  
  
We're lying so close together that I can't help but notice that I'm not the only one happy about this.  
  
He pulls back from me slightly, a smile on his face.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yeah," I breathe. "I'm good."  
  
"Good." He says through a satisfied grin.  
  
I stare up at him. At that quirky grin he has; part arrogance, part manly pride, part impressed. He's almost basking in the glow of his victory he looks so immensely satisfied.  
  
"You're looking," I pause, searching for the right word.  
  
"Stunningly attractive, dashingly manly?" He suggests, a glint in his eye.  
  
"Chirpy." I decide.  
  
He raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Chirpy?"  
  
"Chirpy."  
  
He nods, slowly.  
  
"Chirpy," he says, "full of chirp." He grins. "There's possibilities." I stunned.  
  
"You're not serious." I didn't think he's take it quite like that.  
  
There's a long pause as he leaves me hanging here, getting more embarrassed by the second until -  
  
"Nope," he says, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.  
  
"Oh God," I moan, throwing myself back into the pillows and pulling one over my face to hide my embarrassment. "I actually bought that!"  
  
And he's laughing.  
  
"Jan!" I yell into the pillow.  
  
Still laughing.  
  
"Hey Missy," he says softly, "Stop hiding."  
  
I lift the cushion slowly to find Jan staring up at me from where he's rested on my stomach. Having pillowed his head against his forearms he looks up at me, an expression halfway between "love me" and "laugh at me" stretched across his features.  
  
"Hey," he says all trace of his earlier merriment gone.  
  
"Hey," I reply. It's a good word might as well use while I can. I'll have to think of something else to say soon enough anyway.  
  
"So."  
  
"So."  
  
It's hard enough breathing whilst he lies so close to me he's practically on me, but think?  
  
I'm sorry but there is just no way that's ever happening with this kind of physical proximity going on.  
  
So now I'm stuck on what to do next.  
  
"Yeah," I breathe softly. "Okay."  
  
"You know what," he says, the grin back in place, "I think we should just give up on this whole talking thing for a while."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He stalks up my body like a predator, all stealth and controlled body movement. And I'm so caught up in watching how he moves that I don't register that he's looming over me, holding himself up over me. He's not imposing at all, in fact, if there is such a thing as "un-posing" he's doing that. I can't quite figure it until I realize that he's waiting for a sign from me. Trying not to push unless I confirm it's okay.  
  
I look up at him. Watching the muscles in his arms and shoulders hold him up. Watching his attempts to hold his body still as he drops his head for a kiss.  
  
He's great.  
  
And I want to show him that.  
  
With a grin I grab his belt with both hands and yank him down.  
  
"Couldn't wait, huh?" he teases.  
  
"No," I say, raising my arms around his neck, "I couldn't."  
  
*****  
  
And we're kissing again. I can taste her, and she's wonderful.  
  
She's great.  
  
She's -  
  
Slipping her hand under my t-shirt to tickle my lower back.  
  
Huh.  
  
Well two can play that game.  
  
I let my hands drift down the sides of her body, softly, gently moving over clothing until I reach the right point and it's -  
  
"Ahhh!" She shrieks trying to dislodge my grip on her waist. "That tickles!"  
  
"Does it?" I question.  
  
"Yeah! Stop!"  
  
She squirms against my grip her t-shirt rising up and she pushes against my wrists. I lift her up, pulling her to her knees. I can't help but love playing like this. I love that I can pick her up, and throw her in the air because she trusts me. Maybe I should get Les to talk to Torrance come Monday and change the pairs.  
  
"Jan! I'm warning you."  
  
I can't help but laugh as she twists and turns, trying to get loose. Her mouth threatening me while her eyes tease.  
  
Abruptly I let go of her torso and instead reach to cup her face as I steal a kiss in the middle of another threat.  
  
She relaxes against me, melting into the kiss.  
  
I pull my head back, smoothing her hair down my hand as I hold her close.  
  
Actions speak louder than words, right man? Well right now her eyes are saying everything I've ever wanted to hear, and I've got a feeling that mine are returning the favor.  
  
This is perfect.  
  
Really.  
  
I lean back, pulling her tight against my chest. We seem to sigh together, relaxing into this new, different situation. A new position for us. A new position for me. Just lying here, relaxed, together.  
  
I've never really done this before.  
  
Just been with someone.  
  
Just been.  
  
Huh.  
  
So it's about the point where I realize that I'm just content to lie here that Missy decides to have "the talk."  
  
"So."  
  
"So what?" I ask.  
  
"So what is it we're doing here?"  
  
"Ah," dammit, "that was that kinda 'so'".  
  
"Jan."  
  
"Okay, okay". Right now I'm seriously suppressing my built in masculine urge to run for the hills at the first sign of a serious relationship conversation.  
  
"I mean," she says, her head rested on my shoulder and one hand absently stroking my stomach, "that you kissed me."  
  
"Yeah. I did that. And then you kissed me."  
  
"Right." She agrees, then doggedly pursues her point with another: "So."  
  
"Do we have to do this," I say, interrupting the awkward silence left by her last "so". "I mean can't we just say I like you and you like me and we're cool with that. Do we have to talk about it?"  
  
"You like me?" She questions, mock surprise in her voice. I wonder if she's nervous. Les is always talking about how people disguise emotion with, like, other stuff. I wonder if the "shock horror!" tone she's adopted right now means that she's anywhere near as nervous as I am.  
  
"Yeah," I'm figuring honesty is the best policy right now. "I like you. I like you a lot."  
  
"Good," she says snuggling into my shoulder. "I like you too."  
  
I'm waiting for the rest of this. I'm waiting for the "so what do we do now" and the "is this an actual relationship" questions. The anticipation of the romantic inquisition is getting to me.  
  
Coz she's not saying anything.  
  
"Missy?" I say slowly.  
  
"Yeah," she murmurs.  
  
"That it?"  
  
I swear I can feel her smiling through my shirt.  
  
"Yeah Jan. That's it. Coz you like me and I like you and right now, that's all that matters."  
  
"Really?" I ask, amazed at her ability to just take things in her stride without analyzing them to death like so many other people I know.  
  
"You realize I'm gonna get shit from Cliff about this," she teases, "You'd better be worth the hassle."  
  
I grin.  
  
"I am," I say. "Just wait and see."  
  
I can feel her grinning again as her arms come up and hug me tightly. I rearrange my body slightly, shifting her weight so I can move one hand up to lie against her hip and the other to weave through her fingers against my torso.  
  
And it's worth it. It really is.  
  
It's perfect. Coz she likes me. And I like her. Together we like each other.  
  
And that's all I need. 


	6. Customary

Customary  
  
*******  
  
I kissed her goodbye when I left her house. And when I left her room. And when I left her bed. I just couldn't stop kissing her. The moment was there and I took it. It was almost as if I was aware that our afternoon of emotional fun wasn't going to last.  
  
It was almost as if I knew in some strange psychic part of my mind the stress and difficulties we were going to have to go through. The painful complications. The well structured manipulations. All of it. I somehow knew that this could be my last time to kiss her without looking over my shoulder to see who's watching. The last time I could touch her without worrying about whether we can survive the wrath of the squad.  
  
Or, more accurately, the wrath of Courtney.  
  
So I left her with a kiss. Well there were about 8 actual lip-locks after the goodbye and before I made it out of the house but still; goodbye, kiss, leave.  
  
I'm happy and confident and jubilant (I maintain that Darcy's dad paid for her SAT verbal score and that I am in no way jealous of her freaked out vocab). I'm good. I'm psyched.  
  
And I'm feeling this up until when I'm about three quarters home and my phone rings.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"You ran out on me this morning mister."  
  
Courtney.  
  
"Courtney?"  
  
"Yeah," she says, her tone reflecting her obvious amusement, "Who else have you been sleeping with?"  
  
"No one." Technically true, as Missy and I neither slept nor made it past the earlier bases.  
  
"Of course not," she purrs down the phone, "Why would you want anyone but me?"  
  
She teasing I know it but part of me is suddenly terrified that she knows. And of what she'll do if she knows. To Missy. To me. But especially to Missy.  
  
So I'm silent. Struck silent with fear, wondering how on earth I'm supposed to respond to that. I don't want her, I don't want to see her. This thing, whatever it was, is over between us. It is no more. Gone.  
  
I can tell she's wondering about my lack of reply but I honestly can't think of a ting to say that won't wither plunge us all into a world of shit, or be unfair to Missy by lying to Courtney.  
  
"Wanna come round Lover?"  
  
No I really don't. And the choices I made last night suddenly seem crazy. Why the hell did I sleep with her. Why?  
  
"Jan?"  
  
"Gotta go Court," I manage to croak out, "I've got that swing demo tomorrow with Torr and Les." And Missy. "I'm gonna need some sleep," and space, "if I'm gonna get through it."  
  
"Oh," she says, her disappointment evident.  
  
"Yeah," I commiserate. "Gotta go."  
  
I snap the phone closed before she can comment.  
  
This is going to be difficult. And dangerous. I'm playing with fire with Courtney and I'm not sure whether to involve Missy. Coz as much as I will admit that it's been one of my fantasies to be caught between two beautiful girls, I only want one of them, and I'm not sure how to tell the other that without fucking up the squad dynamic. And right now, with just under 3 weeks to go to Finals, we need that dynamic solid.  
  
Could I just avoid Courtney for the next month, would it be possible for me to just not see her, like other than practices.  
  
To just avoid going over to hers, not not wait for her after practice or spend Friday nights on her coach or in her bed. Could I just not do it. Not do her. For the next month.  
  
Right now I feel like a coward for even thinking of it but I'm not sure there's anything else I can do. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. A relationship and a vengeful bitch.  
  
I don't want to be here. I just -  
  
I just want Missy.  
  
I just wish I knew what to do right now. My heart's telling me to just turn around and go back to the Pantone's place, but my head's yelling she'll never understand and I wouldn't know how to explain it.  
  
A rock and a hard place.  
  
A blonde and a brunette.  
  
God I wish we didn't have finals so I could just say goodbye to Courtney and be done with it.  
  
God I wish life was simple.  
  
*****  
  
Today is a good day.  
  
It is. I checked.  
  
Today I get to dance with Jan. I get to spend the day with Jan, and Torrance and Les. But with Jan. Without Courtney.  
  
Just with my two best friends and my (GULP!) boyfriend.  
  
Learning to dance.  
  
Could anything be better?  
  
Well yes, that was suitably demonstrated yesterday, when he -  
  
Yum. Happy thoughts.  
  
Lots of happy thoughts. Coz today is a good day. And yesterday was a great day.  
  
I just couldn't stop grinning in the car on the way over. Les just sat there and made amused comments about my "glow", my "chirpiness" and my "mysteriously happy demeanor" as he drove.  
  
"I don't know what you're so happy about?" I threw back at him at one point.  
  
"I'm just psyched," he grinned.  
  
"You're psyched that I'm with Jan."  
  
"Yeah. It's about damn time." He's got this insufferably smug look on his face. It's just begging me to wipe it off.  
  
"You're talking like there was a pool or something" I tease.  
  
His grin gets wider. No. It can't be.  
  
"There was a pool?" I think my voice just got a little higher than normal.  
  
"No," he says, dragging out the word with mock sincerity.  
  
"There was a pool?" I repeat, forcing my voice calm.  
  
"We. speculated," he admits.  
  
"We?"  
  
"Torrance and I had thoughts."  
  
"Which led to conversation," I continue. "And to a bet?"  
  
"Perhaps," he admits with a grin, "perhaps not."  
  
That trademarked Les grin that just screams there's something he knows that you don't. That confident, energetic smile that he uses as a defense against the comments and jibes of the world and the football homophobes. He's just radiating amusement as he checks the mirror, turns the corner and pulls up outside the gym.  
  
He cuts the engine and turns to me, grin solidly in place.  
  
"You're going to make this an issue now?" He comments cryptically.  
  
Huh?  
  
"Huh?" I'm eloquent when I'm confused.  
  
And he's still grinning, dammit.  
  
"Les," I warn, "What aren't you telling me?"  
  
The grin continues.  
  
"Les?"  
  
And all at once I can feel something against my neck - heavier than a breeze from the open window but lighter than a touch. I catch my breath as arms slip around my shoulders. I twist my neck around to kiss Jan as I sink into his embrace.  
  
"Hey," he says, her mouth mere millimeters from mine.  
  
"Hey yourself" I breathe.  
  
He smiles. "I missed you," he whispers as he drops his lips to mine.  
  
Les abruptly shifts from a grin to all out laughter and knocks us out of our revelry.  
  
"You guys," he manages between snorting giggles. "You're just so - "  
  
"Cute?"  
  
Jan pulls back from the car enough for me to see Torrance standing, hand on hip, with a very amused look on her face.  
  
"Torr," I say as I get out of the car, "hi."  
  
"Hey Torr," Jan adds, "Good to see ya."  
  
"Yeah," she replies, eyebrow raised, "I bet." She grins. "Come on guys, don't wanna be late."  
  
Jan and I exchange looks as Torrance shoulders her gym bags and heads for the building.  
  
"Should I?" he asks softly.  
  
"No," I say, "I've got this one. Can you get my bag?"  
  
"Sure," he says, kissing my nose, "you go explain to Torr. I'll get the luggage."  
  
"My hero," I tease as I set off after my captain and best friend.  
  
She's not moving fast but it takes me a second to catch up to her.  
  
"So," she says.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So." She repeats, her tone indicating that she wants more.  
  
"Yeah," I answer, entirely unsure of where I am right now.  
  
"So I broke up with Aaron," she says.  
  
"Really," I'm stunned. I mean the guy was a total loser but she just never seemed to be able to see it. "You broke up with him?"  
  
"Yeah," she says. "Impressed?"  
  
"Hell yeah." And I am. Deeply. Or maybe I'd just prefer to see her dating my obnoxious but ultimately harmless brother than Aaron the all time ultimate jerk.  
  
"Cool," she says, "So, you and Jan?"  
  
"Yeah," I admit. "We just" - I pause, thinking of the right word - "kinda happened."  
  
"When?"  
  
When indeed. We kissed on Saturday. Talked on Saturday. Started on Saturday. But on Friday.  
  
"Yesterday, I guess" except, "except that it was kinda on Friday."  
  
"Decisive," she says with a nod.  
  
"Yeah well," I sheepishly admit, "It's a bit complicated."  
  
"No kidding," she smiles, "So this is recent? A Friday, Saturday thing?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Nothing happened at the regionals?"  
  
"What? No."  
  
"Good."  
  
What?  
  
"Les!" she yells over her shoulder.  
  
"Yeah?" He runs up, bag over his shoulder, the picture of enthusiasm as opposed to the amused Jan following in his wake.  
  
"I win," she announces.  
  
"Win what?" Jan asks.  
  
"I win," she repeats with a grin, "hand it over."  
  
I'm all confused up until the point Les grumpily hands over twenty bucks.  
  
"There was a bet!" I exclaim.  
  
"A bet?" Jan asks, "on us?  
  
"Yeah," I tell him, before turning on Torrance and Les. "You knew."  
  
"We suspected." Torrance admits.  
  
"And hoped," Les adds, "you'd see sense."  
  
"So you're not mad?" I ask.  
  
"We're not mad," Torrance reassures me.  
  
"Not at all," Les adds.  
  
"So that's good," Jan says.  
  
"Hold on," I watching the faces here and there's something they're not telling me. "Where's the but?"  
  
"The but?" Les questions, his face a picture of innocence.  
  
"The but," I confirm, watching them both carefully.  
  
"Yeah," Jan agrees, "There's something else here."  
  
"Okay," Torrance looks away for a second. "There's a but."  
  
"This isn't a good but is it?" Jan asks, despondently.  
  
"No." Les shifts on his feet, uncomfortable.  
  
"Okay," Torrance says, biting the bullet, "This is gonna sound harsh but hear me out okay? We've talked about this thing, about what would happen if this thing happened. Between you. Before the Nationals."  
  
"Ah," Jan sighs.  
  
"Is this going where I think it's going?" I ask. "Coz if it is I don't want to hear it."  
  
"Missy," Les starts, "It's just that -"  
  
"No," I say. "Don't."  
  
"Yeah," Jan agrees, "You don't have to. We've got this."  
  
"You know that this isn't about you guys," Torrance emphasizes, "It's about the squad."  
  
"It isn't always the squad Torrance," Jan snaps, "Be honest. This isn't about the squad. This is about Courtney."  
  
I know I just flinched. And I know that Jan and Torrance are too caught up in their fight to have noticed it. But Les noticed. He notices everything. He's too damn smart for his own good.  
  
"Missy," he says softly.  
  
"Yeah," I breathe, "yeah." I look across to Jan and Torrance's face off. "Guys." But they don't even miss a beat.  
  
"My personal life is not for the good of the squad -"  
  
"The squad needs to be healthy!"  
  
"GUYS!"  
  
Silence rules.  
  
Missy and Jan stare at me, while Les hides a grin.  
  
"It's cool," I explain. "It's fine. We're gonna keep this, until after Nationals."  
  
I look Torrance straight in the eye. "For the good of the squad."  
  
She looks away.  
  
"I'm sorry," she admits, "but there's no choice."  
  
"You should have more faith in people Torr," Jan puts in. "We don't know how she'll react."  
  
"I don't want to see how she'll react," Les points out, "But I think you'd better start separating yourself from her."  
  
"I'm sorry Missy, Jan, and I don't want to ask you to do this, but I have to." Torrance says. "We all have to, for the good of the squad."  
  
"But you're not mad?" I ask in a very small voice.  
  
"No," she says, "I'm not. I'm just stuck."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Are we cool?" she asks, obviously uncertain.  
  
"Yeah," I say, "But can we not, for today? Can today just be us four, not the squad?"  
  
"Yeah," she says. "I can do that."  
  
"Good," I say, letting my boyfriend pull me into his arms. "Thanks."  
  
"So today," Les prompts.  
  
"Today's about us." Jan says.  
  
"Cool" Torrance says, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from Jan. "I want to know everything."  
  
I can't help but grin as she drags me into the girls locker room, chattering away the whole time. She's cool. We're cool. There's gonna be issues with the squad, but they can wait.  
  
You know why?  
  
Coz today's a good day. 


	7. Unusual

Unusual  
  
By Redtoes  
Authors notes - part 7 of 10. Writing this series forced me out to HMV to buy the video of Bring it On when I should be packing up my stuff as I'm moving to London tomorrow. Hope it's worth the stress..  
  
Summary - At the mime/interpretive dance seminar Courtney catches on the Jan and Missy. How will she react?  
  
Disclaimer - not mine, no money, go sue someone else.  
  
Feedback "feels like first".  
I always considered myself a reasonable person. I always thought that I was, if not nice, then good. I mean, I tease, I bitch, I argue, but I've never actually hurt someone. Or I guess if I'm honest, that should be that I've never really hurt someone. The odd comment here and there may reduce some freak to tears, but actual heart rending pain, never.  
  
I'm a good person.  
  
I am.  
  
Really.  
  
I want to do what's best. Generally what's best for me, I admit, but I've never trampled anyone's heart, just a few egos and the odd testicle.  
  
Which is probably why I'm having so much difficulty dealing with what I'm seeing right now.  
  
It's probably nothing. It has to be nothing. 'Coz there's simply no way that what I'm seeing is real.  
  
*****  
  
"Did you sleep well?"  
  
I hear him before I see him. I can feel him behind me before I turn my head to see he's there. He leans in close, resting his chin on my shoulder as I read the announcements on the gym notice board.  
  
"Okay, you?"  
  
"Could have been better," he admits, "You could have been there."  
  
"Woah cowboy," I tease as I turn to face him. "Slow down. I'm in no hurry to hear you snore."  
  
"I don't snore," Jan says.  
  
"Do too," I grin, "Les told me. Though I maybe should ask how he knows."  
  
"Do you honestly want to know?" He replies.  
  
"Oh I know already. Les. Gossip. Les."  
  
"Yeah," he says, an irritated look on his face.  
  
"You wouldn't believe the stuff I know," I tease.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like," I say, stepping close enough that the material of my vest grazes against his t-shirt, "when you and Les decided that the squad needed water balloons in order to wash cars. And how exactly it was that the 99' cup ended up as a punch bowl?"  
  
"Yeah," he says uncomfortably, running his hand through his hair, "That's an interesting question."  
  
"I think so," I smile, moving closer.  
  
"Really," he smirks, slipping his arms around me.  
  
"Yeah," I say, relaxing in his arms, my lips moving ever closer to his.  
  
We pause in the moment, caught up in each other.  
  
I'm just smiling at him, close to him, held by him. I'm happy. I'm content. I'm -  
  
*Cough*  
  
And we separate in an instant.  
  
"Hi guys," Torrance says with a smile.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"So," she says, "getting cozy?"  
  
"Torrance -" Jan starts.  
  
"Torr, it's nothing, just saying hi," I interrupt.  
  
"Yeah," she comments, "Like I believe that."  
  
"Torr."  
  
"Not here, okay guys, just not here."  
  
"Fine," I agree as Jan reluctantly nods his consent.  
  
"Come on," she beckons to me, "help me greet our demos."  
  
*****  
  
I don't believe it.  
  
I don't want to believe it.  
  
I don't even want to know.  
  
Oh God.  
  
Jan  
  
And Missy?  
  
When the hell did this happen? Jan's, he's, woah. What is going on here?  
  
When did this happen? How did this happen?  
  
Why..?  
  
Oh hell no. I am not one of those women who sit there and pine for the one that got away. One's do not get away from me. I let them go.  
  
I damn well let them go.  
  
He spent a night last week with me. With me. In my bed. WITH ME.  
  
This is not happening. It's just a head turning thing. She's new, and perky and innocent. There's attraction there but that's to be expected. There's been attraction before, but who's the one he always comes back to?  
  
Me.  
  
I.  
  
Courtney.  
  
This time's no different.  
  
And what's it matter if I don't even want him. He's mine. She's a skanky whore and soon he'll see it.  
  
Because he's mine.  
  
Just wait and see.  
  
*****  
  
So the day goes well, or at least as well as can be expected considering we're studying mine and fucking interpretive dance. Torrance and Les get a ton of ideas for the new routine and we, the squad, are well on our way to Nationals.  
  
With three weeks to go.  
  
Three weeks.  
  
I can do three weeks.  
  
I work well under pressure.  
  
And so I sit here and watch Torrance sketch out her ideas to the squad, the dance moves, the lifts, the throws. Everything we need for a walk through. A basic plan, with the details to be filled in later.  
  
We disperse amongst the room, the guys stepping back to let the ladies work out the first steps.  
  
"You up for this," Les asks me softly, as we watch Torrance and Missy work out the opening moves.  
  
"Yeah, course," I reply, more interested in the girls than a conversation I've had a million times.  
  
"Jan," he says, catching my arm, "This is serious, this is when everything becomes a loading question, when you can't touch her or hug her, when you've got to be focused. Can you do this?"  
  
"Yeah Les," I say holding his eyes, "I can do this." He squeezes my arm in solidarity, then lets go in time to see Courtney grinning at me from across the room while Missy practices her steps.  
  
Courtney's grinning at me?  
  
"Yeah I caught that too," Les mutters from behind me.  
  
"She's just grinning. She grins," I reply under my breath.  
  
"Yeah, she's grinning," he says, "she's grinning like a damn shark."  
  
"It's nothing," I say, but I'm unconvinced. She's hasn't smiled like that in a while. She has plans when she smiles like that.  
  
God I hope she doesn't have plans.  
  
Courtney bounces over to me as the routine breaks up.  
  
"Same time tomorrow night Lover?" Ah, so she doesn't know. Really doesn't know, to the extent she thinks I'll be around on Friday night like always.  
  
"Er," I start, entirely unsure of what to say here.  
  
"Jan's at mine," Les jumps in, "He's helping me work on something."  
  
Courtney raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like," Les pauses, that too smart brain of his abandoning him in his moment of need. "Like..."  
  
"Like the new routine," Torrance puts in. "I need both of them."  
  
"Both of them?" Now Whitney's in on the eyebrow raising. "Planning a spitroast Torr?"  
  
"Ladies, ladies," Les says in his most placating tone of voice, "you should know by now I won't be tempted, no matter how much you try."  
  
"Maybe that's why Jan's there," says Whitney, blatantly channeling Big Red.  
  
"Whitney," Courtney mock chides, "You know Jan's mine." She leans in close, giving me a clear view down her top, "Normal time Lover?"  
  
"Er.."  
  
"Cat got your tongue?" Whitney snipes.  
  
"Er.."  
  
"Jan?" Courtney prompts.  
  
And then, at the worst possible moment -  
  
"What's up guys?" Missy asks, wiping off the sweat from her solo practice with a towel.  
  
"Jan and I were just discussing what time he's coming round on Friday." Courtney says with such a sweet smile that I want to slap her.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Jan always spends Friday nights with me." She says, watching Missy's face intently.  
  
I'm watching her too. Torrance is watching, and Les. Whitney has this look of perverse pleasure on her face and the entire squad is caught up in this drama that they don't quite understand.  
  
"What's going on?" She's confused with, I have to admit, good reason. "Is there something..." I can hear the pause last, drag on towards awkwardness.  
  
"Jan's mine." Courtney states, slipping her arms around me.  
  
I should be saying something right now. I should be moving. I should be doing anything that would take that confused hurt look off of Missy's face.  
  
And I see it as she rebuilds her walls, changes her expression and just says -  
  
"Sure. Whatever. I'm hitting the showers now so any chance of a lift home Les?"  
  
"Yeah," Les replies. "I'll be in the lot."  
  
"Sure." And she walks off.  
  
Courtney wraps herself even further around me but I'm still speechless. I'm still lost.  
  
I didn't expect it to be like this.  
  
I should've.  
  
I should have remembered Courtney hates to be threatened at anything.  
  
I don't know what to do. I've Courtney wrapped around me, Les with the most neutral of faces, Torrance barely restraining herself from an angry rage.  
  
And Missy gone.  
  
I don't know how to fix this. It went too fast.  
  
And Missy knew Courtney could be an issue but I don't think she expected anything like this.  
  
Anything like this.  
  
God I have to fix this.  
  
I look down to see Courtney smiling up at me, grinning like a predator, as she runs her hands across my chest.  
  
Got to fix this.  
  
Got to. 


	8. Abnormal

Abnormal  
  
By Redtoes  
  
Part 8 of the Synonyms Series  
  
Authors Note 1 - Sorry about the late update, moving to London and a lack of internet access postponed my posting of this installment.  
  
Authors Note 2 - For all those grammar geeks out there - yes the series is called Synonyms, but the first 6 stories were variations on the predictable/obvious titles of the first 2. This lasted until Missy and Jan broke up (!) or at least began to in the last fic number 7. The theme then changed to Antonyms. The last 4 stories (I've planned four but it may take longer to resolve seeing as how long it took to get them together) will have the same type of title. The series title is still "synonyms". Okay and if you followed any of that and actually understand it then you get a gold star, or, as is more likely, a virtual hug if you leave me feedback.  
  
Disclaimer - She's not, he's not, they're not, and you're not mine. I, however, am and will continue to exert ownership rights over myself.  
He didn't say anything.  
  
He just stood there, with that blond bimbo of a bitch wrapped around him and didn't say anything.  
  
And no I'm not stupid. Yes I could see he was uncomfortable. I could see he looked trapped and stunned and probably has a plausible if not actually a good reason why he made less noise than a statue. So I'm aware of him, his state of mind, his expression.  
  
Right?  
  
So do you get yet why I'm never going to speak to the guy again?  
  
No?  
  
Well let me explain it for you.  
  
I was watching their conversation. Let the record show that I was keeping track of what was being said and in no way was I just training unaware on the other side of the room. I heard Courtney's requests and Whitney's comments and Torrance and Les's bumbling attempts at an excuse. I heard Jan's silence. I heard it all.  
  
The boy's a talker, you know that? He talks. He's always got something to say, always got something to share. Comments, opinions, arguments; always something. He doesn't get quiet very often, but if he does, well that's a whole new ball game, and usually one he's losing.  
  
It's when he's quiet you have to worry.  
  
It's the times when he walks off, or just stands there that are serious. The issues that get to him he doesn't comment on. He stays out of them. Maybe it's a defense mechanism of some sort, though if so it's a damn stupid one that deserves to be removed by some painful process.  
  
It's when he says nothing you have to worry.  
  
When he's silent you're in trouble.  
  
And he didn't say a word in there.  
  
Not one.  
  
So what am I supposed to think? That he's with me. Or that he's with Courtney? Courtney certainly seems to think he is.  
  
I mean, I know he mentioned there would be stress with Courtney. Les mentioned we should be aware of Courtney. Torrance warned me about Courtney. It all comes back to Courtney.  
  
Or maybe it never left her to begin with.  
  
So what am I here? The dunce who got taken for a ride by a bit of sexual tension and read too much into it? An idiot for fell for the guy with a girlfriend? What am I left with?  
  
I'm still toweling my hair dry when the rest of the girls, minus Courtney, Whitney and Torrance walk in.  
  
"What's that about?" Casey asks in that clueless innocent voice of hers.  
  
"That was Courtney," Darcy answers, "being Courtney."  
  
"Yeah," one of the others adds, "Courtney's being Courtney."  
  
"She gets like that sometimes," Darcy clarifies, "She's a bitch."  
  
She really is. I know it. Courtney's a bitch. I quietly pack up my stuff, and manage to slip out a side door just as Courtney and Whitney strut into the Locker room.  
  
I know Torrance will be waiting for me with Les, she'll have put off her shower for a few to make sure she doesn't miss me. She won't want me to do something I'll regret. Like kick Jan's ass off a cliff, or into heavy traffic.  
  
I mean how dare he? How dare he keep from me that he's actually having a relationship with Courtney. He should have told me. He really should of. I mean, if only so I'd know his side and wouldn't find out from Courtney. Damn her.  
  
Damn him.  
  
I just want to get out of here. I need to think and I can't here. He's here somewhere. Maybe with her. Maybe they're -  
  
"Missy."  
  
Or maybe he's standing behind me.  
  
"Missy, I -"  
  
Maybe he's standing behind me, holding his arms out to me in this lost, hopeful way.  
  
Maybe he's got this look of pain and confusion etched across his face, this determination to make things right but the complete lack of any clue how to do it.  
  
"Missy, Courtney, I -"  
  
He's trying so hard to figure this out.  
  
"Did you sleep with her?"  
  
Why did I say that? Why do I even want to know that? Why did I -  
  
Oh god he just flinched.  
  
He flinched.  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
No kidding it's complicated.  
  
"Complicated?"  
  
"Yeah," he admits, "complicated."  
  
"But it's the kinda complicated that's in the past, right?" Man I hate how my voice sounds, all reedy and weak, like I need him. I don't need him. I don't need this. I was perfectly fine before this came along, I was good, I was happy - and why the hell hasn't he answered my question yet?  
  
"Jan?" I query.  
  
"It's complicated." He says, spreading his hands wide.  
  
"You're still sleeping with her?"  
  
"No," he says, "I mean, she thinks I am, but I'm not."  
  
"Jan, you gotta explain that, coz right now you're not making much sense."  
  
"I'm not sleeping with Courtney," he says, stepping forward to cup my face in his hands, "I'm not. I'm with you. I want you."  
  
And just as I start to relax, something occurs to me.  
  
"So how's it complicated?"  
  
"It just is."  
  
"No," I say, pulling back, "It's not. We're us, and she's her, and the only reason she doesn't know that we're us and she's her is because of the squad. So we don't mess with the dynamic. It's not complicated, it's just secret."  
  
He shifts on his feet.  
  
"But that's not all of it, is it?" I say, watching his discomfort. "There's more, isn't there?"  
  
He looks away.  
  
"What aren't you telling me?"  
  
"Nothing," he says, "nothing important."  
  
"It must be something."  
  
Jan steps back, looking anywhere but at me.  
  
"Look I'd better go," I say.  
  
"Missy," he starts, "This isn't what you think."  
  
"Isn't it, coz I think you not being straight with me. Is it what I think?"  
  
"Missy," he pleads, "This is complicated."  
  
"Did something happen," I venture quietly, "with her, I mean since me?"  
  
And he doesn't look at me. He doesn't fucking look at me.  
  
Oh God.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
And I'm running down the hallway. Running away from him. Running out the door.  
  
Running past Torrance. Running past Les. Running away from all of this.  
  
And I'm not going to stop. I'm just going to keep on going.  
  
Because Jan slept with Courtney.  
  
Jan slept with Courtney.  
  
My Jan.  
  
But he's not mine anymore. If he was ever mine to begin with.  
  
Because he slept with Courtney.  
  
Oh God. 


	9. Divergent

Divergent  
  
Part 9 of Synonyms  
  
Author's Note - so I got 'em together and then I broke them up. Missy's been stewing, Jan's all confused about what to do and Courtney's got this whole jubilation thing going on. What will happen next?  
  
Author's note 2 - okay so I messed around with the time line a little, but it's not major. Assume all of those scenes happened ("bring it" and "they cannot not go") but that they were "off-screen" so to speak. For the purposes of this story the cliff-missy dancing in the living room scene happens after the interpretive dance session.  
  
Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters. I do own a battered laptop, a copy of the video and a somewhat sadistic imagination. Wish my stuff was a little more bankable.  
"Okay. Well that wasn't good."  
  
"Les," Torrance says, "You're a master of understatement."  
  
"Well," I gesture in the direction of Missy's departure, "that wasn't good."  
  
"No kidding." She pauses, "What're we gonna do?"  
  
"Well she wouldn't be moving like than unless she'd talked to him, and he said the wrong thing."  
  
"Like what?" Torrance questions.  
  
"Like how recently he's slept with Courtney. Woah!" I placate the instant rage evident on her face, "I don't know he's done anything, I just suspect that there's some stuff we don't know."  
  
"Yeah," Torrance muses, staring after Missy. "I'll take her, you take him."  
  
"Great," I enthuse sarcastically. "Can't wait to wade in on this trauma."  
  
******  
  
"Jan? Buddy?" I call as I move through the locker room. "You there?"  
  
"No." Comes the typical, stubborn response.  
  
"Right," I drawl.  
  
I round a corner and there he is. Back to the wall, elbows resting on knees, his head tilted back, eyes closed. He'd almost look relaxed - if he wasn't sitting against one of the walls of the communal shower.  
  
"You look comfy." I venture, taking in the scene.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So what happened?" I gesture to his surroundings. "You get lost on the way to the shower."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Or did you slip?" I probe, watching the skin around his eyes flinch.  
  
And it does. Majorly.  
  
"Did you slip Jan?"  
  
"No." He moans quietly, dropping his head into his hands. "Yes."  
  
"Huh." Leaning against the wall, I slowly let myself slip down so I'm sitting beside him. Beside my best friend and all of his misery.  
  
And I keep silent, just letting him work his way around to it.  
  
"There was, I mean, I may have, possibly, done something I regret. For like the past three years."  
  
"Courtney?" I ask.  
  
"Courtney." He confirms. "But Missy's just so, and Courtney's so -" he pauses, searching for the word.  
  
"Irritating?" I offer.  
  
"Yeah. And Missy's just herself, you know. I don't have to be anyone else." He sighs.  
  
"Maybe," I venture, "you should tell me why Missy nearly knocked me over during her impression of an Olympic sprinter earlier."  
  
Jan pauses, taking it in.  
  
"I didn't mean her to run."  
  
"Of course not." I pause. "She was fast, though."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Really fast."  
  
"Right."  
  
"So spill."  
  
"I slept with Courtney," he says, "Before I ever kissed Missy."  
  
"Okay," I admit, "Not really seeing how this is a problem."  
  
"Missy asked if anything had happened with Courtney since, like, us. Me and her."  
  
"And?" I prompt.  
  
"I didn't answer." He says, banging his head against the wall. "I didn't fucking answer."  
  
"Why?" I'm confused, didn't he just say.  
  
"Since there was us. Since her. I'm counting this from the first time I touched her. From the first time I wanted her. The first time we -" He throws his hands up in the air, frustrated.  
  
It dawns on me. "The locker room?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"After the locker room you and Courtney?"  
  
"It was a Friday," Jan says with a shrug. "It made sense at the time. I didn't know what was going on. It could have been nothing. I didn't even know exactly how much I wanted to be with Missy until I was there with Courtney."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I went round. There was a movie. Popcorn. Stuff. I was dazed, didn't know what I was doing. On auto-pilot. All night I was on damn auto- pilot." He trails off, sounding as confused and out of it as he claims to have been then.  
  
"Jan, you have to tell her this stuff. Well, not all of it, but enough to convince Missy that you didn't cheat on her. Coz you didn't. You didn't Jan. You made a bad choice, but it was before all this." I pause, surveying the scene. "So why the hell are you sitting in a shower?"  
  
For the first time Jan looks up at me, his face pained, his brow furrowed.  
  
"What are you doing here man?" I ask emphatically. "You should be out there, chasing your girl, saving your relationship?"  
  
His eyebrows knit together as he tries to process this.  
  
"But she wouldn't listen. She ran off," he bumbles in his defense.  
  
"Get up Jan," I say, offering a hand, "Get up and go. Tell Courtney where she can shove it and then go tell Missy about it. There is no point in you being here."  
  
Jan takes the offered hand and pulls himself to his feet. But the motion is slow, deliberate - it's obvious that he's uncertain, and unwilling to face either one of the girls.  
  
"Go Jan. Before it gets any worse. Go to Missy and tell her the truth. The whole truth. The whole sordid affair. Tell her."  
  
Jan gives me this screwy look, this half-suspicious, half-amused look.  
  
"Promise me you'll never say stuff like that where people can hear you."  
  
"Sure," I grin, "I promise." I watch Jan idly scratch his neck. "You gonna get out of here or what man?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," he capitulates, "I'm gone. I'm gone." And with that he starts to retreat across the room, one hand holding the back of his neck, and muttering quietly to himself every few steps.  
  
I can feel the smile on my face as I watch him leave. My brash confident friend, reduced to a shuffle over a girl. Jan, whose pick up lines have always consisted of the crude and the obscene, nervous and edgy when faced with the prospect of a real relationship. How'll he do it, a cynical voice in the back of my head asks, can he do it?  
  
Yeah, I think as I watch him gather himself as he walks, watch his strides lengthen and his back straighten. He can do it.  
  
Or at least I hope he can.  
  
"Jan," I call, just as he gets to the door.  
  
"Dude?"  
  
"Don't mess this one up, man. This one's real. She's real."  
  
"Yeah," he replies so quietly that I strain to catch the words, "She is."  
  
And with that, he's gone. Off to face the music. Off to face the world.  
  
*******  
  
I don't know what to do. I ran away, far away and I made it home. No one stopped me. No one chased me, though even if they had they wouldn't have caught me. No one did anything.  
  
And so I'm standing. Standing in the middle of the living room. My tears have long since dried up and I'm left with, what?  
  
Anger?  
  
Frustration?  
  
Hunger?  
  
I don't know.  
  
Something.  
  
Like a zombie, I drop my coat and gym bag on the sofa. Like a sleepwalker I cross to the stereo and hit play.  
  
Music starts. And like a cheerleader I start my moves, working them through in my head, keeping to the beat, keeping to the count. I can feel my mind start to slip away as I work through the moves, I'm starting to relax, I'm doing nothing, just practicing, letting my body repeat the moves it knows so well, I'm light, I'm air, I'm -  
  
WHAT THE HELL IS CLIFF DOING?  
  
He wiggling, and moving his arms and grinning. Mocking me. God I hate my brother.  
  
"Bite me." Go away.  
  
"Hanging out with the airhead has really sharpened your verbal skills, huh?"  
  
"Screw you."  
  
"Said the cheerleader." He sneers.  
  
And it dawns on me. I'm miserable and what am I doing; grinning like an idiot and waving my arms in the air. This is me, now. Two years ago I'd be backflipping in some gym, by myself, always by myself. Now, right now, I mean, I'm alone, but I'm not by myself - I have a squad, friends. I have people.  
  
I don't have Jan.  
  
But I have people. Cliff doesn't have people. He doesn't even -  
  
Suddenly I have this great desire to make things right, make everything right.  
  
"That's right I am a cheerleader, and you're a dumbass. Torrance likes you, she likes you."  
  
"She has an odd way of showing it" he sneers. God he's bitter. Doesn't he know that things aren't always simple?  
  
"Don't be stupid. She broke up with her boyfriend for you."  
  
"Yeah?" He's challenging me and I just can't stand it. How dare he? Like take a chance man, get out there?  
  
"Look, do us all a favour and get over yourself and tell her how you feel". Go and talk to her. Please. Before I smash in your head with my pompoms!  
  
"I thought I had." Okay now he's just pissing me off.  
  
"Well do it again, and here's a tip from a cheerleader. Be aggressive, be, be aggressive."  
  
I storm past him up the stairs. When I reach the top I turn, and can still see him standing there, stewing.  
  
"Get over yourself Cliff." I yell down. "Things aren't always simple. You've got to give them a chance." Cliff glares up at me.  
  
"Sort it out," I yell, "She's worth it."  
  
"Yeah," comes a voice from downstairs, freezing my angry tirade. "She is."  
  
I don't even have to look. I know Jan's standing there, looking up at me. I don't want to look, I don't want to see -  
  
"Missy" he says, forcing my eyes to see the pain in his eyes. "We need to talk." 


	10. Convergence

Convergence  
  
By Redtoes  
  
Author's note - Part ten of ten. Though there may be an epilogue and I have an idea for a Les ficlet that really should be addressed. Who knows, if I get a good idea I may make a whole 'nother series about this crew.  
  
Disclaimer - They're not mine, at all, ever. They all belong to someone else. And I don't get paid for this, so please don't sue. Though if you like the work I do for free, just think how good I am when there's money on the table.  
You want to hear about how I forgave him, don't you?  
  
You want to hear about how at that moment I took him back and forgave the lies, the deception and the fact he totally and utterly betrayed me and just kissed him right then and there.  
  
Well.  
  
I didn't.  
  
******  
  
"Jan."  
  
"Hey," he says, stepping up a stair. "Can I come up?"  
  
"Would anything I could say convince you not to?" I ask rhetorically as he runs up the staircase. I don't move from my stand at the top of the flight, and he's left standing on the penultimate step, looking up at me.  
  
Though it's not really looking up. Considering the extra inches he has on me height wise I'm just pleased we're on the same level for once.  
  
It seems fitting.  
  
"So," he says, "We're doing this here."  
  
"Yeah," I'm savouring being able to look him straight in the eyes, "right here."  
  
"Okay. Well here it is. I think I might love you. And I think I fucked up. Majorly." God I can't catch my breath.  
  
"And I did sleep with Courtney"  
  
Okay, now I'm breathing. Fire. How dare he?  
  
"But that was before, before us. Before I realised that I wanted more than just sex. Before I realised I was in love with you. Before."  
  
And I'm staring at him.  
  
"Before?"  
  
"Yeah," he confirms, stepping forward to cup my face in his hands, "Before."  
  
"How long before?" Part of me can't believe this. I'm standing here in front of this guy who just told me he loved me and that all the crap I thought was right is in fact wrong, and I'm questioning him. I'm questioning it.  
  
"It was before," he says, "who cares how long?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Then we're gonna need to sit down," he smiles shortly. "This could take a while."  
  
*******  
  
You still think I took him back don't you?  
  
You think he told me all about Courtney and how they'd had a "thing" for years and I took him back because life should have a happy ending and this would be it.  
  
I didn't.  
  
I listened though. I listened to everything. And then I kissed his cheek and asked him to leave. And he did.  
  
And now we're in Florida, and I'm watching him flirt with other women, "Hey ladies, wanna see my spirit stick," and listening to Torrance depress me about Cliff.  
  
I'm being as chirpy as I can be in public, but, and I swear you to secrecy on this, I'm crying in a corner when I'm by myself.  
  
But we're in finals. So that's all that matters.  
  
Or so I thought.  
  
*******  
  
"Trust on three! One, two - "  
  
"TRUST!"  
  
*******  
  
"You know," he says as he leans his lanky frame against the metal railings that hold me back from the beach, "you used to be more fun."  
  
I'm sitting on the rails, sipping on a coke, watching the waves. I know Torrance is as close as she can get to the judges without being accused of stalking. I suspect Les is trying his very best to flirt with. Tim? Was that his name? I don't know. And here's Cliff, pestering me.  
  
"Buzz off little brother," I smile, "I'm all nervous here."  
  
He grins. "You're really not."  
  
"No," I agree softly, "I'm not."  
  
"You've either won or you haven't," he says neutrally.  
  
"Yeah," I agree. "We came, we cheered, now we wait."  
  
"You've done more than that," he points out resting his elbows on the rail, staring out to see.  
  
"I really haven't," I object softly, trying not to think about where he's going with this. Don't be talking about Jan. Don't be talking about Jan. Don't -  
  
"Missy." Shit.  
  
"Don't say it Cliff," I warn, suddenly tense.  
  
"Why?" He asks, "you messed with my love life."  
  
"And look what happened."  
  
"Yeah," but he doesn't sound upset at all. He sounds -  
  
"You're gonna go for it aren't you?"  
  
"Go for what?"  
  
"I knew it!" And I did. "I knew you didn't fly out here for me."  
  
"Hey I had the ticket," he shrugs, "And I'm here, why's it matter who I'm here for."  
  
"It doesn't." But he's gotten over himself, that matters. And he's going to take his chance, that matters.  
  
That all matters.  
  
Jesus. What the hell am I doing?  
  
What am I doing?  
  
"Missy!"  
  
I turn, suddenly.  
  
Jan.  
  
"Jan." I'm neutral, I'm cool, I'm ice.  
  
"Missy," he pauses about six feet away uneasily, shifting on his feet. "The judges are back. Come on, we gotta go."  
  
"Yeah," I brush down my clothing as I clamber to my feet. "Right."  
  
I watch as he turns away from me, beginning the jog across the broadwalk back to the arena. For a second my heart flips as I watch him move. All that he is, all that energy and enthusiasm and life.  
  
And then reality comes crashing back and I have to sprint after him to catch up, leaving my brother alone to watch the waves.  
  
*******  
  
God she looks good. Her hair's down and her skin's flushed and she looks so good I could just -  
  
Do absolutely nothing because I screwed this up two weeks ago.  
  
I tried to tell her, you know? Tried to explain. I just couldn't get it to come out right. I told her everything, laid open my heart, my soul, put it all out there on the line and she said -  
  
"Jan?"  
  
No actually she said that she hated that I never told her about Courtney. That those small lies had become big, and that she just couldn't trust me, couldn't be near me. I'd betrayed her.  
  
Then she kissed me, softly, gently and I thought there must be something wrong with my ears coz no one says those things then kisses goodbye like that.  
  
No one except Missy.  
  
And she's here standing beside me and it's a physical effort not to be touching her.  
  
"Jan?"  
  
Not to be kissing her. Not to -  
  
"Jan!"  
  
I look down to see Missy's hand resting against my chest, helping her keep her distance as she leant in to bring me back to reality. She's touching me.  
  
I could die happy.  
  
"We need to go out there, don't we?" She asks, gesturing out into the arena. Somewhere along the line I paused in this doorway, unwilling to take those final steps. After this there's nothing. It's over. No Nationals the squad has to be in shape for to force us into daily practices. No dynamic to maintain. No reason to see her.  
  
I thought I could win her back already. I thought we'd be holding hands waiting for the trophy. I thought so many things.  
  
"Yeah," I answer her. And then, taking what might well be my last ever chance I hold me hand out to her. "Let's go."  
  
Her fingers hover over my skin as her eyes meet mine. She's about to smile, she's about to drop her hand in mine and warp her fingers around me when -  
  
"Hey Lover."  
  
Courtney.  
  
Who whisks me off in a second, leaving Missy standing there, her hand half outstretched towards my last chance that never was.  
  
Damnit.  
  
****** I swear it's like he's trying to give me reasons to hate him.  
  
Jogging hand in hand with Courtney across the arena. Bastard. But then I was about to take his hand wasn't I?  
  
I feel a stab of real pain, followed by the familiar chaser of anger. It's almost a comfort, to know I'm still angry, still hurting. It's diminishing though, shifting it's focus from Jan, poor confused Jan to Courtney the evil bitch.  
  
Maybe Cliff's little trip is getting to me. He flew 3000 miles to see Torrance. He came because I told him he should, that she as worth it. That she broke up with her boyfriend over him. But first she lied, or at least wasn't entirely honest. Flirted with one while dating the other..  
  
God is everything becoming a metaphor for my life?  
  
"Missy! Come on!" Torrance waves at me from across the stage. "Come on!"  
  
Plastering a fake smile on I dash across to where our blond captain stands. Taking my hand we kneel at the front of our group. Coz if there's one thing that these guys can do it's pose. I swear all they need's a camera sometimes and they're suddenly kneeling or standing or regimented into the perfect team shot. Its plain freaky. It's -  
  
- Now this was a tough decision as there were two outstanding teams this year -  
  
What? Huh? Oh yeah, time to win.  
  
- from San Diego California, the Rancho Carne Toros! -  
  
Or not. I find myself staring at Torrance. We came second. We came second..  
  
We came second!  
  
"Second place, hell yeah!" I hear Courtney scream and for once in my life I don't hate her. I'm too busy jumping up with Torrance and screaming as we go and grab that big damn trophy that ours. It's ours and we did it all by ourselves.  
  
No Big Red.  
  
No stolen routines.  
  
No Sparky bloody Pulastri.  
  
Us. The Toros. We did it.  
  
It's ours.  
  
Cliff comes across suddenly, focused on one thing, and though I want to see them both happy I just don't want to lose my buzz already, don't want to come back to reality, and so -  
  
"Les!" I yell as I move through the crowd. "Les!"  
  
"Hey," I feel rather than hear this word, his breath against my skin rather than his word in my ear. And I turn and throw myself into the arms of -  
  
Jan?  
  
Jan.  
  
Jan who's kissing me, and god I've missed this.  
  
"Jan?"  
  
"Yeah?" he says, grinning at me from mere millimetres away.  
  
"Hi," I manage.  
  
"Hey," he says leaning in again. Leaning in to kiss me, when -  
  
"Jan!" Oh I know that voice.  
  
"Go away Courtney," he says, never once taking his eyes from mine. "I'm talking to my girlfriend."  
  
I sense her seething behind me, and for one second I want to pull away. You can have him. He's yours. He screwed me over and I don't want him.  
  
And I look up into those warm darks eyes.  
  
Screw that.  
  
Screw her.  
  
So long as I can taste your lips for the next age, I'm happy.  
  
"This doesn't mean we're cool." I say the next time we take a breather.  
  
"I know," he says, his eyes sparkling, "but it's a good start right?"  
  
"Yeah," I grin, rubbing my nose against his, "It's a great start." ******  
  
So you happy now?  
  
To hear I took him back?  
  
To hear I transferred my application from Stamford to UCLA, where he'll be?  
  
To hear that two years later we're still going strong and moving into our own place?  
  
To hear that though I gave up cheering, it just wasn't the same without our squad, I kept up Gymnastics, even improved as a result of my year with Torrance and the others?  
  
To hear that everything's going well?  
  
To hear we're doing fine?  
  
To hear we're happy?  
  
Yeah. I'm happy to hear that too.  
****** 


	11. Epilogue

Authors note: most of this series was written last summer and so I apologise for this final chapter for coming so late. Lots of people asked me for it, but I think I'll have to say that the story finished in part ten, and this is but a glimpse into the characters' futures. I really enjoyed writing this series and was a little sad that when I put it al in one place I lost all of the great reviews people had given me. So please review, it'd be great, and it'll encourage me to write more.  
  
Disclaimer: If you don't know they're not mine, you really haven't been paying attention.  
  
Epilogue  
  
College was both less than she'd thought it would be and more. Less because somewhere along the line she'd lost what her mother called "the obsessive desire to win at everything even remotely having to do with cheerleading" and more because through some quirk of fate and college applications she ended being relatively close to all of her best friends. But somewhere along the line cheerleading dropped out of the picture and Torrance Shipman became a good student, getting grades that would have made Les, on the other side of country in Boston, very proud of her.  
  
Or at least that's what he told her in between long emailed tirades about the how the cutest guys on campus were also the straightest ones and how the lack of a cheer squad, or the lack of a place for him on a cheer squad (she wasn't sure which) meant that he had to life weights instead of bodies and suspected that as a result he was losing his ability to, as Pulaski had put it, "throw people in the air". But he was okay, surrounded by his intellectual peers and making his parents proud. He was doing fine.  
  
As was Cliff, whose dual love of music and, of all things, politics, meant a happy and tuneful time in UC: Santa Barbara. She missed him, but had to admit that around hundred miles of distance was nothing, especially when compared to the other places he'd applied; New York, Chicago. A hundred miles was nothing, and she spoke to him every day and saw him every week. He'd talked about transferring down but she'd convinced him that a little distance was good, and he'd stayed where in was, the dorm he loved, with new band mates. They'd yet to play, but she'd got reserved front row seats for every gig they'd ever do and that made her happy.  
  
Jan and Missy made her happy too. Suffering under regulations that insisted all freshmen had to live in campus accommodation they'd set out to plan next year instead and had spent the first few months of this year searching the city for a suitable apartment. The only they'd found had three bedrooms, and they hadn't hesitated before asking Torrance in with them. Jan had joked how great it would be to have two beautiful women under one roof for so long that Missy had in the end been forced to hit him, at which point he'd apologised, but the mischievous glimpse in his eyes promised the subject would be revisited in the future.  
  
"Not that I'd want to, like, hear you and Cliff, " Missy had qualified, awkwardly, "But it'd be nice to have us all in one place."  
  
Jan had hugged her from behind, leaning his chin over her should making puppy dog eyes at Torrance.  
  
"Come on Torr," he after his pouting had caused her to giggle, "Is this a face you can refuse?"  
  
That had caused her laughter to begin afresh, but when it had finally subsided she said what they'd all known she would say, which was yes, and the move in had been scheduled for the first day of the summer break.  
  
"We'll get jobs," Missy had said, "It'll be great. Cliff can come down."  
  
And he had, and the arrangement of his sleeping on the sofa had only lasted for about ten minutes after he'd entered the place, but no comment was made. Torrance knew after all that the only reason why Missy and Jan maintained separate bedrooms was so any parents visiting wouldn't take exception to the sleeping arrangements. Also so that Jan would have somewhere to go when Missy kicked him out for snoring so hard that her "books were rattling on the damn shelves!"  
  
And life went on. Missy kept up her gymnastics and Torrance tried them too but found that everything except the floor she just didn't enjoy, somehow lacking the balance to work the parallel bars to the degree she would have liked. So she ran instead, joining the track team while Missy pulled in medals for her balancing and flipping skill. The day Torrance won her first race was a day they all celebrated, Cliff coming down for the night and the four of them hitting the town, dancing til dawn and generally acting like the depraved, but in love, college students that they were.  
  
In some ways running gave her freedom she'd never had with the squad, and she savoured it, because for everything she'd been then, she was more now. Balanced and healthy and loved.  
  
She watched two of her best friends fall in love with joy, watched them grow and smile and live, and it was enough for her. She had Cliff and her own fairy tale. And it for enough for her.  
  
She felt like a complete person for the first time in her life, with her studies, her sport, her friends, her life. It was more than enough.  
  
And she didn't need any trophy to tell her that.  
  
*****  
  
End Epilogue.  
  
End Series.  
  
***** I really enjoyed writing this series, but it's nice that it's finally done. Please let me know what you thought, as any feedback, good or bad, is always appreciated. 


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